We are infinite
Our souls galaxies
Our minds universes
Our bodies space itself 
Supernovas implode on the backs of closed eyelids
Pulsing neon colors morph in and out
Impossible to ignore, they beckon and distract
And spill out of infinitesimally many cracks
Into streams of consciousness 
Black spatters crumpled sheets and 
forms lines spun from heart strings and collarbones
Raw pain and utter beauty and pure joy
slither among each other and stain the canvas
with the image of the human soul
How can mere flesh and bones contain infinity?